Saturday, June 27, 2009
Mera nods agreement as she spells her word, “A C C U M U L A T E.”
“Excellent,” I reply. “Accommodate. I would like to accommodate your desire to fill the forward lockers with crap, but I must stand firm. Accommodate.”
A grin, “A C C O M M O D A T E.”
“Okay, next word.” I browse the list, “Achievement. It would be quite an achievement if we could dispose of nearly 2000 pounds of gear in the next 3 weeks. Achievement.”
“A C H E I V E M E N T.”
“Uh... wait. Um... no no. That's wrong.” I correct the word, Mera dutifully writes it out five times while I ponder the vagaries of the English language. The next one is going to knock her flat too. She's had it on her list for three weeks and for some reason it forever befuddles. “Criticize. I don't mean to criticize you, darling, but your feet were disgustingly filthy. Criticize.”
Mera looks serious as she writes out the word. She erases it once, chews her pencil, and then spells it without the S for the first time.
“Woot! Okay! That's great. Accidentally. I accidentally threw away all of Dad's extra wood yesterday.” I'm back on topic.
“You so did not,” Mera charges as she writes the word. “You did that on purpose. That's not an accident, a c c i d e n t a l l y.”
“Abundance. Your father has an abundance of alternatives to the wood pile he'd gathered under the bimini covers. He'll survive. Abundance.”
“A b u n d a n c e, he's still not going to like it. And it wasn't an accident.” Mera can be pretty stubborn too.
Hmm. “Destruction. The destruction of Daddy's wood is nothing compared to the devastation I plan to wreck on your sisters' shelves. Destruction.”
“D e s t r u c t i o n. Just don't destruction my cabin or I'll destruction you,” she warns.
“It's. It's not like you can stop me, small stuff. It's.” I challenge her.
“I t apostrophe s possible I'll sneak into your room and steal your icing if you do,” she warns.
I'm quick, “Hah! Its. That's assuming you know its location. Its.”
She's quicker, “I t s next to the bed hidden under your sewing work.”
“Premonition. I have a premonition that this argument is not going to end well. Premonition.”
“P r e m o n i t i o n.” Mera is all business now as we near the end of the list.
It's not as fun this way when Mera isn't arguing with me. “Produce. Are you going to produce a finished essay this afternoon? Produce.”
“Not unless you p r o d u c e a big lunch to fuel me,” she quips, smiling.
I nod in agreement. “Okay Mera. Will do. Counterfeit. I can't counterfeit my strong positive feelings for the idea of lunch right now. Counterfeit.”
“Oh Mom....” Mera complains. “E I or I E?”
“That's cheating,” I peer over the table at her paper, “Counter Fee It... remember what we talked about with the money thing?”
Mera's brow furrows and she ponders the word and then writes it out correctly when comprehension dawns, “Right! Fee It.”
“S c h e d u l e !” Mera is equally enthusiastic as she challenges me, “Schedule! Does our schedule include ice cream this morning? Schedule.”
Laughing, I grin in agreement. “I have a premonition we can accidentally overrule your Dad's schedule and accumulate an abundance of ice cream. It's quite an achievement to accommodate helado AND produce in our afternoon destruction. School's out for the day!"